And there
were two little hands spotted purple with the cold, holding up my
winter coat, and a strange little far-away voice said: 'I can't
find my mother.'
"'For Heaven's sake,' I said, 'who are you?'
"Then the little voice said again: 'I can't find my mother.'
"All the time I could smell the cold and I saw that it was about
the child; that cold was clinging to her as if she had come out of
some deadly cold place. Well, I took my coat, I did not know what
else to do, and the cold was clinging to that. It was as cold as
if it had come off ice. When I had the coat I could see the child
more plainly. She was dressed in one little white garment made
very simply. It was a nightgown, only very long, quite covering
her feet, and I could see dimly through it her little thin body
mottled purple with the cold. Her face did not look so cold; that
was a clear waxen white. Her hair was dark, but it looked as if it
might be dark only because it was so damp, almost wet, and might
really be light hair. It clung very close to her forehead, which
was round and white. She would have been very beautiful if she had
not been so dreadful.
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